Light posting for a while. I’m going off grid a few days.
In my last post I noted a minor observation in the night sky:
“there it was… a gleaming silent line of human intelligence wrought among the stars. Maybe 50 dots in a perfect formation. A constellation. Just a hint of the 2,400 already up there and the vast grid that will be there in due time. It wasn’t sad, like a McDonalds billboard on the interstate, it was glorious, like a reminder that humans can fly if they wish.”
One of the most crushing things I’ve witnessed over my lifetime is the slow gradual embrace of what I call “socialist incapacity”. What I mean is that all people are born with endless potential but they’ve been worked over by powerful forces. They’ve been dumbed down, gaslit, and slowly badgered until they’re hollow and weak. They end up thinking of themselves as less than they once were. From hero to peasant. From peasant to supplicant. From supplicant to a means to an end. A cruel fate; to be a game piece on someone else’s chessboard.
I don’t like the degradation of humanity! Humans aren’t meant to be meat slabs in a vote farm. We’re individuals. We’re amazing! We’re not rabbits or buffalo, unaware animals grazing on what is there but not questioning how it got there. Such limited beings are incapable of deeper concepts like time or honor. Nor are we programmable robots; widget consuming production units… or increasingly often not even production units but votes to be purchased.
We are far more. We’re born with the spirit to soar and the intellect to accomplish that which we imagine. To a human, at least one that hasn’t been beaten into submission, the impossible is only that which hasn’t yet been done. This is why large systems dislike humans. Those who would oppress us sand “humans” and “citizens” down until they’re mere “civilians”, “constituents”, or even “clients”.
Our modern universities and declining social capacity are the smoldering ashes of the Library of Alexandria. It isn’t necessary that I know all these things, but it’s crucial that someone know all those things. Without them we are not mankind, but cavemen with iPhones. Yet former repositories of knowledge are subsumed in waves of foolishness.
How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? Just as many as it takes to decide which restroom to use.
I see NASA as the saddest loss of all. NASA’s bureaucratic bumbling consumed most of my lifetime on earth. I was born to a time when “space hotel” was a legitimate concept. A child of the time had a reasonable shot at orbit. That was the trajectory that perished. What replaced it was a four decade committee meeting of the doomed. From this disastrous mess, humanity is just emerging.
Humans went from the Wright Flyer to Apollo 11 in 66 years. (1903 – 1969.) I was born just around when NASA lost heart. It spent a half century stepping on its own dick as I got old and stayed on the ground. NASA isn’t the cause of this. It’s only a reflection of humanity’s failures. We have a super computer in every person’s pocket but use it to spy on law abiding citizens. Who thought that was the best use of all that power and knowledge?
The news today is about airlift of baby formula from Germany. As if we were a people who can’t make baby formula. Of course we can make baby formula. We need only quit shooting ourselves in the foot and do the task.
We lack the progress of a serious people because we are unserious and unaccomplished. Oh sure, NASA did some neat things. They succeeded here and there. It seems sometimes almost by accident they’d cashed so many checks in so many congressional districts that it couldn’t help but make something useful. But overall they spent most of my life as a funds dispersal mechanism with a space hobby. If 66 years went from Kitty Hawk to Tranquility Base I had a reasonable expectation of more in the nearly equal time that has elapsed. They can’t yet repeat what was last accomplished in 1972.
Why? Because NASA is a bureaucracy. Humans have the spirit that wants to go and the mind that makes it possible. Bureaucracies have the opposite, and they’ve the whip hand lately. Masked Karens and cell phone dopamine addicts can’t make the trip. But they can bitch about everything until nobody else has the heart to try.
However, all is not lost. Despair is a sin. It is betted to keep trying than whine like those who never tried.
Watch this:
It’s just a few minutes. What better thing are you doing?
You don’t have to geek out about nerdy tech terms. “Max Q at eleven seconds? Who gives a fuck?” Just bask in what is possible and how hard it was to accomplish. This is the real deal. Every single minute of that video is fraught with risk.
Unlike a society that’s cowering in the basement over COVID or inflation or Monkey Pox or someone who didn’t use the right pronoun, the people that made that rocket fly took on risk. They beat risk. They over came risk. They literally rise above the mundane.
In the video powerful machines are unleashing immense energy. All that massive effort is going through math and software and infinitely delicate machinery; converting thrust and vector to pinpoint accuracy. Smart people worked very hard on this. They lift humanity from the earth’s gravity well, position their machines precisely where they want them, and then direct them to fall back at screaming speeds to earth. At the last minute they pull their machines out of that swan dive to ground and land on a target. A tiny target floating in the ocean.
They do this over and over again. Falcon 9 has has 156 successful flights. What has any politician done to equal that?
SpaceX improves. It learns. SpaceX managed the first vertical landing of stage 1 rocket in 2015. This year they launched and recovered a stage 1 rocket that had been to space 12 times. Their satellite constellation is slowly providing internet service to the entirety of planet earth. I saw it in the skies the night of the lunar eclipse. Nothing said at a podium in DC matters as much as the small but perfect lights I saw in the sky.
Compare that to the bullshit you see in the “news”. Diesel is $6.50 and nobody knows how long truckers will keep delivering stuff. Speaking of stuff, much of it is floating in container ships in the pacific. Maybe farmers can keep producing food like we’re accustomed, or maybe they can’t. The president who got more votes than any other candidate in history took time off funding war in Ukraine to bitch out China about Taiwan. Nothing says “elder statesman” like less than a year between a botched evacuation of Afghanistan and a proxy war of choice against Russia followed maybe by a skirmish or two with China in China’s backyard. You’re free to disagree with me on all my implied opinions, that’s fine. The solution for these is as complex as the causes. But we can probably agree these aren’t good things. Sound, well reasoned people in systems of wise governance aren’t known for fuel shortages, declining food supplies, and war.
Yet through it all. Smart people who actually payed attention in college calculus class are doing what humans are meant to do. They’re launching spacecraft.
You can look up to the sky, or you can look at the shit on your shoes. Right now the shit is talking loudly, using words like disinformation, and spending money so much that the concept of money begins to diminish. It is the skies that show the dream. Idiots cannot reach the sky. Shit cannot build a rocket. Don’t let shit drag you down. In the end, it’s just shit.
Good luck y’all!
A.C.
P.S. Hat tip to Sondrakistan for reminding me how cool it is to be alive right now.
This happened a week ago during the lunar eclipse (which was awesome by the way):
It was very dark. I’d turned off my pole light to see the nigh sky better. I was sitting in a lawn chair watching the heavens when the coyotes started howling.
Coyooooote. Yote yote yote. COYOTE!
Our dog was in the house but she heard it. She wasn’t putting up with that shit!
DOG! DOG, DOG, DOG, DOOOOOOOOG!
There was some back and forth.
Yote, yote, yote… coyoooooooote!
DOG! DOOOOOOOG! DOG DOG!
Then an entirely different sound came from far off in the distance. Faint but clear.
Woooooooooooooooooooooooolf.
The coyotes and our dog shut the hell up! There was a period of dead silence.
I’ve never been particularly impressed or unimpressed with wolves but I’m rethinking that. One single solitary distant howl shut everything else down. It was like a police cruiser rolling past a teenager’s party. Instant silence.
It was a beautiful night. The lunar eclipse was very cool. The wolf never howled again. I guess it had made its point. After about 20 minutes the owls started hooting again.
At one point I caught a gleaming view of several dozen bright satellites in flawless precision. A line, flying west to east in the sky. A piece of the Starlink satellite cluster. I was inspired. NASA could perform a lunar landing when I was a toddler. Science fiction and dreams of spaceflight were at their apex when I was too young to know. NASA has spent most of the ensuing half century crawling up it’s risk averse bureaucratic ass. Meanwhile, America and western society cowers in fear, like coyotes who’ve heard a wolf. Yet there it was… a gleaming silent line of human intelligence wrought among the stars. Maybe 50 dots in a perfect formation. A constellation. Just a hint of the 2,400 already up there and the vast grid that will be there in due time. It wasn’t sad, like a McDonalds billboard on the interstate, it was glorious, like a reminder that humans can fly if they wish.
Between the wolves and the lunar eclipse and Starlink, it was a fabulous evening.
[This post seems like it’s rambling, because it is. Homesteading isn’t always linear. Sometimes it’s not cyclic either. Sometimes it’s just random shit happening when it happens.]
External events forced my hand and I’m in homestead maintenance mode. I’ve gone from my default “make food so if the dipshits in DC starve us all I can smugly eat bacon” to “repair stuff on a budget of not much using whatever scrap materials I can scrounge”. Frankly, I needed a “maintenance year” anyway. I didn’t want to do it while society was mid-flush. I planned to ride it out a bit longer. I guess the universe had other plans.
I knew this was coming. I’ve been coasting a bit and have lost ground with maintenance. The extreme winter consumed my firewood supply, the wet spring did a job on planned tractor work, and “decline” (call it what you want, times ain’t normal) turned the dial to eleven with farm expenses.
This year it was also impossible to get feeder pigs. Well that’s not 100% true. I might, if I put forth extraordinary effort, track down a few rare and hard to find, bigger than normal, feeder pigs. They would cost triple or quadruple the normal price! Or, I could finance a Lamborghini. Both make about the same fiscal sense.
I won’t overpay for livestock! Coupled with “supply chain something something it’s definitely Putin’s fault” effects on the feed supply; I’d lose my shirt. Livestock must make sense. They’re not pets.
So that’s that; no pigs this year. Such a shame. I’d happily raise a bare minimum of family food even if it was at a small loss (just to make sure I’ve got a personal bacon supply) but there’s issues with that that might not be apparent if you haven’t tried it. Homesteading is inefficient anyway so there’s not much wiggle room. If you drop to a scale too small it has huge drawbacks. The labor of one pig (which would be a financial loss but tasty) is super inefficient compared to my usual run of 3-7 of them.
They’re social critters. It’s wise to take that into account. A handful of pigs will amuse themselves like Millennials browsing social media. A group of them under my benevolent care will sit around being happy without causing much fuss right until I promise them free college tuition and put them on a trailer bound for slaughter… also much like what has happened to Millennials.
One pig alone is a very different situation. A solo pig tends to think too much. Some get grumpy. Some become lovable pets that get in your way when you’re trying to mow the lawn. Some turn into Tom Sawyer and go exploring. The point is that one critter becomes a bigger hassle than a handful that will amuse themselves jointly.
Upon reflection I sense the root of modern society’s aversion to people who just want to be left alone. Not to sound too brutal but it’s a thing done in society to humans in recent times. A kid’s schooling now incorporates an endless succession of group projects. Everyone in the group gets a B. A kid’s schooling in the past often had a single kid working through a homework assignment or essay all on their own. One kid gets an A. Another kid gets a C.
Can you sense the kind of human that emerges from both paths? Which upbringing makes a human who’s more likely to get on a cattle car? Is it the same path that makes one human more likely to put another human on the cattle car? Remember 2020! The Government didn’t need to air drop Karen into the grocery store to monitor mask compliance. Karen was already there and trained to enjoy the role. Squawking about “other people’s behavior” filled a void that had been molded into her life. Same goes for the HR department that pushed the vaccine in ways only removed in scale but not direction from Nuremberg. “Get the shot or you’re fired”, that’s oddly construed as “voluntary consent” to a creature raised in a group project world.
Forgive me; one ponders the underbelly of humanity when they pay attention to the cycle of life. Sometimes society has a dark core but you only see after a lonely day of quietly shoveling pig shit.
Enough of that line of thinking. I might get banned for wrongthink!
Back to the subject matter, three pigs isn’t triple the work of one; it’s half. You heard it here first!
That’s just one little factoid in the world of experience that comes from walking the walk. Your average Mother Earth News reading / NPR listening hippie won’t know this truth because they’re more about signaling intent than accomplishing a goal. It’s why you should ignore dipshits fresh out of college that want to instruct about “sustainable living”. The world is filled with fuckers who’ve spent their whole life absorbing ideas from teachers instead of doing things in real life. Never listen to anyone tell you about homesteading unless they drive a truck and it has some rust on it.
I was uncertain what to do about the pig situation. Fate gave me a nudge. Thanks fate!
A barn collapsed. It collapsed across the pig fence. Mother nature isn’t subtle! I accepted the clue (that had been delivered with a sledge) and planned a year of construction.
Don’t freak out. I had naught but incredibly creaky infrastructure and I knew this day would come. What can I say? You don’t lightly drop big money on new barns just so a critter can shit on a freshly poured slab. Also homesteading is as unglamorous as being a medieval peasant but it works. I’ve been limping along as best I can. This year gravity won and therefore it’s time to fix stuff. Well played physics.
The good news is I’ve already done well. I’ve managed to produce considerable amounts of food over many years using infrastructure somewhere between “shack” and “hovel”. (They’re pigs and chickens, they don’t need a luxury accommodations.) The bad news is I’m out of the game in 2022. Meh, I’ve probably made more food for society than 99.8% of humanity in 2022. That’s not so bad.
I’m a little skittish counting on food from grocery stores but don’t worry, there’s always hunting and I’ll put in a small garden. Plus, I still have some chickens.
Also, I’m told that everything is fine with the food supply because we’ve got top men managing the economy. Any president who got the highest vote count in history surely can keep the grocery stores filled. After all, every single president before him had it well in hand. He can’t be worse than all of them. Right?
In the meantime, I’ve stacked a cord of wood!
Hat tip to Daily Timewaster for the inspiring image. My firewood is in a shitty little shed. It looks nothing like this glorious photo. But it doesn’t matter. It’ll heat my house just as well and I did the stacking myself. That’s what it’s all about!
More posts about ongoing “project daily driver” are below:
As part of “project daily driver” I finally changed the oil and did a test ride on Honey Badger, my fun little Yamaha TW200. Poor Honey Badger has been sitting in my shop waiting for that oil change all winter. Around the first snowfall of last year I pushed it in the shop, parked it, perched a quart of fresh oil and a filter on the seat, and ran off hunting.
After that? Nothing.
I get busy. The bike was ignored in a cold shop.
Sometime in March I serviced the battery, which is new-ish but also had been sitting in a frozen shop for months. I topped it off with distilled water and hooked up a battery maintainer I’d bought months earlier. Sheesh… I feel so bad that I didn’t install the maintainer right away.
Battery Maintainers:
I haven’t had the best luck with battery maintainers. Everyone with a motorcycle seems to recommend “Battery Tender” brand. That’s what you’ll see in lots of motorcycle / ATV shops. When I’ve used them they’ve been hit or miss. I experimented on my own to find better gear; which I have.
Warning, I’m about to get pummeled by what I say:
I think Battery Tender is like Stanley, Craftsman, Briggs and Stratton, etc… brands with a history of good quality that have since declined and are coasting on past reputations.
The three brands I mentioned (and others) come with rabidly dedicated followers. They’ll tear you apart if you complain about “their” brand. They don’t just “like” the brand, they joined the cult of the brand!
They’ll tell you all about the thing they bought many years ago which has served them well. I’ll ask something like “It’s great that the Battery Tender you bought in 1998 works great, what about one made in this century?” This never helps. Once someone joins the cult, they’re in the cult forever.
I noticed the same thing when I bought my farm tractor. People would tell me all about Pappy’s awesome 1943 John Deere Model A “Johnny Popper”. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny Poppers were pretty cool for their time. But that was literally almost a century ago! A John Deere in 2022 has nothing to do with a John Deere made in 1934. Is a John Deere in 2022 worth the massive price differential over a Massey Ferguson in 2022? “Well, let me tell ya’ about the Massey Ferguson my cousin’s uncle’s hairdresser’s neighbor bought back in 1973!” Ugh!*
Anyway, I’ve had better luck with NOCO battery maintainers than other brands. My data comes from the real world… in this century… under hard conditions. YMMV. I will revisit my evaluation if something better comes along. You’ll never find me putting NOCO stickers on my truck or wearing a brand loyalty t-shirt.
I bought a NOCO Genius 1 for my Yamaha TW200 just before winter and installed it around Easter… because I suck. Here’s the link to a NOCO Genius 1. It’s a small maintainer but the battery on a motorcycle is tiny. It’s stupid to hook a monster maintainer to a battery the size of a box of poptarts! The maintainer will set you back about $30 which seems a fair price. They work very well.
Note, little batteries for little things (like motorcycles) don’t do as well in cold as bigger batteries for bigger things. Physics y’all. (Actually chemistry but whatever.)
The Yamaha TW200 is so small it’s said that a modern LiOn battery the size of a cigarette pack can be installed and it will do the deed quite well. How cool is that? When the OEM battery kicks off I’ll probably “upgrade”.
One other note, little batteries for little things (like motorcycles) used to have little prices so I didn’t really sweat it. Then Bidenflation kicked in. Batteries easily cost at least 50% to 100% more than they did a few years ago. A $30 maintainer on a $30 battery may be silly but the same maintainer on a $80 battery is brilliant.
A third note: I hate alligator clips! If I have to pull the seat or a body panel to get at my battery to put on alligator clips I be lazy and not use the maintainer.
Don’t look at me weird. I’m busy and I’m lazy. So what? We’re all like that!
The solution is to use the NOCO’s spiffy (and idiot proof) connection. It allows you to ditch the clips. You just click the maintainer’s cable to a pigtail you’ve permanently installed on the battery terminals. It’s slick and easy.
The “normal” pigtail is too large for motorcycles. I had to order a “motorcycle sized” pigtail. The size you’re looking for is NOCO GC002 X-Connect M6 Eyelet Terminal Accessory. I’ve used the same pigtail on two motorcycles and plan to install a third on an ATV. NOCO evilly charges like $15 for the friggin’ pigtail! This pisses me off. It’s unreasonable for the pigtail’s components. The person who set that price should be thrown into a volcano. However, it works great and life it too short to rail over corporate asshattery. I got over it. I’ve hooked pigtails permanently to each of my motorcycles. They look reasonably professional and work flawlessly.
(Amazon disclosure, I get tiny kickbacks if you buy from any link on my blog that goes to Amazon. It costs you nothing. All hail our marketing overlords!)
With fresh oil and a perfect battery I set out for a test run. The trails are still impassible so I just rode dirt roads. It was too cold to ride far anyway.
I stopped first at a gas station.
Red alert! Gas stations now invoke political rants. Feel free to skip a few paragraphs:
I’ve got old gas slips in my pack. Some are from back when Orange Menace was president. Gas was dirt cheap and lefties complained about all the bad things Trump might theoretically do. Now Biden does the things Trump didn’t do and that’s supposedly OK now.
We were told that Trump was a menace to America but it’s not Trump that jailed American political prisoners!
About when some of the receipts were printed, lefties were pissed off and shrieking at Supreme Court nominees. Trump was in charge and they were livid. Now their party is in power and they’re still livid. They’re pissed off and shrieking at Supreme Court justices. It’s as if all they can do is shriek about the Supreme Court.
It’s exhausting. A child who throws a tantrum to get a cookie will at least shut up while they eat the cookie.
Gas is at the highest price in American history. The man who got more votes than any president in American history caused this. (If I deny Biden got all those record vote counts, I’m guilty of mis-information. That’s how “free speech” works now.)
I compared two gas receipts and it was unreal. It’s almost impossible they’re from the same universe. Luckily, all I needed was a tiny bit; less that a gallon. My motorcycle sips gas like a hummingbird.
I remember people going apeshit at Carter during the OPEC embargo. This round seems more self inflicted. I don’t know if that’s the true or not. Carter was a long time ago so I can’t remember for sure.
There was an “I Did That” sticker on the pump. They amuse me. I never thought any human could be less popular than Carter. I think Biden did it. From record highest vote count in history to least popular president in history, quite the wiplash!
Pay attention folks: the events of this year and the last few should NOT be forgotten. Remember! Spend time to memorize specific facts and figures before they’re thrust down the memory hole of our censored media. Take time to observe. “It’s time period X and situation Y is like this.” Observe what matters to you and watch how it changes. Don’t let your own memory fade. Stick with what you experienced and you’ve seen with your own eyes. Don’t just accept what the TV people say.
They’re trying hard to spin gas prices as Russia’s fault. Russia, Russia, Russia! It’s dumb thing I’ve been hearing all my life. I thought it would go away when the Soviet Union collapsed. That was decades ago! It seems like people got caught in the cold war and they never left. It sticks in people’s cult like brains just like brand names. Buy a John Deere in 2022 because Pappy’s awesome 80 year old tractor was super cool. USSR is long gone. But, I digress…
I rode a lonely dirt road through a protected wildlife area. It’s a shitty lake or awesome duck habitat depending on your opinion. The shore is too muddy and brushy for shore fishing. Last year, in a drought, the waterline was waaaaaaay out there. This spring, it’s closer to shore.
I pissed off a bunch of ducks when I walked to the bank and sat down. I saw some turtles. It was mellow. I sat there and watched the sun lower on the horizon.
A half hour before sunset I turned around to loop back on a second dirt road when I discovered the mystery.
Three dead beavers in a pile! Just sitting there at the boat access area. In the middle of an open space. They were reasonably fresh. No signs the coyotes had gotten to them yet. (I don’t know, maybe coyotes won’t eat a beaver?) They didn’t smell bad… yet.
WTF?
I hopped off the bike and circled the pile. I formed a theory. There’s a trapper around here. He’ll be back for his excellent results soon. Trapping is a legit thing where I hang out. I’ve no idea of seasons but whatever. I spend 99.9% of my time in the woods solo. It might be fun to meet a trapper and shoot the shit. But no trapper leaves his hard earned quarry in a pile in the road.
I also noticed the tails were cut off each beaver. Is it a bounty? Can there be a beaver bounty? “Bring us the tail and we’ll give you ten bucks?” From a wildlife preserve?
Why leave the pile in the middle of everything? It’s like someone gut an elk on a highway! In general, people chuck yucky shit into the adjacent forest. This beaver pile looked like someone was proud of their beaver harvest. Or maybe it was a warning to other beavers?
The missing tails have got to mean something. Maybe there’s a redneck out there that likes beaver tail? Is there such a thing as beaver tail soup? It sounds awful!
The sun started getting low on the horizon and nobody showed. No sound of an ATV. No humans at all. I never did figure out what was going on. I decided I wasn’t going to be there after dark waiting for the beaver tail death cult to show up. I rolled out.
I’m open to theories. Put them in the comments. I haven’t the slightest idea.
A.C.
*I believe if I ever meet a person who owns both a Harley Davidson motorcycle and a John Deere tractor I’ll go bankrupt on the spot. The combined marketing power will form it’s own gravity well and hit me with a public relations tractor beam that remotely drains my bank account. I’ll wake up in debtor’s prison with no money at all but I’ll be wearing a really spiffy hat and a super cool t-shirt.
I have a large generator. I got it because society is desperately trying to collapse.
When I signed for the outlandish price, I accepted future bullshit as a done deal. It wasn’t “if“, it was “when“.
I don’t recommend expensive generators for everyone. Cheaper options come first. Buy some canned goods and stack firewood. A generator is next level.
The timing seemed appropriate. A year too early is better than a day late! I think I timed it right. We haven’t gone completely to shit but we’re trying. We sure haven’t pulled our collective head out of our ass! There’s no sign that America (or several other nations) will return to the state of reasoned and intelligent self governance. In particular, the election of 2020 resolved nothing and the election of 2022 won’t fix anything significant.
I initiated the purchase just as things drifted from conspiracy theory to fact. It went on-line as a vast and irrelevant portion of the populace went on a year long hissy fit over COVID. This had repercussions. Resilient people determined to maintain the civilization they inherited were always rare; now they’re endangered.
Back then there was talk of “return to normal”. That wasn’t going to happen. I expected social breakdown in cities. On cue, several cities devolved into riots and arson, as if it was planned. (I’ll leave that to the reader to assess.)
The riots of 2020 aren’t over. They’re part of the background. They’ll be an “unexpected” feature of life as long as one or both parties benefit from them. Nothing under the sun, Paris has been having riots every summer for as long as I can remember. America had enough riots in the late 1960s that everyone had a hangover that lasted clear to Reagan. Riots continue until people improve. Idiots acting like idiots in places that tolerate idiots will continue so long as they’re encouraged and financed.
What worries me more than riots was the “hunt down the unvaccinated” shitshow. So dark! It was not about vaccines any more than past madness has been about witches or Jews. Find an other and force them to be like us! A monster wired deep in the heart of evil!
I didn’t anticipate the speed of evil. Crowds went full Nuremberg faster than I’d planned! It flamed out for now but still lurks beneath the surface. Self destructive people lust for scapegoats and that way lies horror. Advanced peoples can and have completely lost their shit. Germany in 1938 wasn’t a backwater of clueless rubes, nor was Salem in 1692.
In the meantime, we experience new and improved forms of collapse on a 3-6 week cycle; double digit inflation, record gas prices, supply chains slowly giving out, and that perennial favorite of Boomers in both America and Europe, war with Russia. These things are not a sinking ship so much as society choosing to commit suicide.
Observe things as they are. If you think a generator will ease the transition, so be it.
My guess is the grid won’t “go down” so much as “suck more over time”. I don’t expect an EMP type “power’s off forever beginning some random Tuesday” event. However, there will come a time when “It’s the third outage this week and my beer keeps getting warm” will become a regular topic of conversation. Our power grid fades slowly, like a photograph in the sun. (Or like the rule of law.)
There are mile markers on the path. I remember the first time I saw empty shelves in grocery stores (in America). It was 2020. Less than 2 years have passed. Are you shocked when you see an empty shelf at a grocery store? Of course not. It’s “normal”.
The good news is there’s still food. I might have to go without my favorite flavor of Doritos but I’m not in a knife fight for a can of beans. Yet. Shit could get worse. For a while it will. But I’m not completely pessimistic about the long term.
It’s best to be thankful for what you had than bitch about the loss. The power grid has been surprisingly solid my whole life. What good fortune! Now times have changed and things are different. The grid was built by and for serious people. A grid run in a half assed manner by a half assed society will have longer and more frequent interruptions.
It’s tempting to shrug off incremental grid degradations as “one off” situations. Don’t. There’s a clear trend. California led the way. They’ve been having “rolling blackouts” since the early 2000’s; sometime before Enron croaked. (I’d never heard “rolling blackout” in America before that. I’d heard of “scheduled outages” in Ecuador. Same thing but CA’s grid started out vastly stronger so it can degrade a long time before it’s all that bad.)
Recently, forest fires became a reason to sue electric companies. Predictably, power companies got gun-shy during dry conditions. So CA has “brownouts” most summers. It’s not a “one off” event like a Florida hurricane. Will you be surprised when California (or Arizona) has power supply issues in August 2022? Why?
California isn’t the only sign of decline. In 2003 most of the Northeast went down. A city of eight million (New York) going dark for a few days isn’t Armageddon but it’s not a sign of Pax Romana. In 2021, Texas conked out for a week or two. A week is a very long time.
Deciding to buy a generator was easier than getting one installed. Through a comedy of errors, conflicting contractors, and endless compromises I wound up with “more” than I wanted. I wanted a crude diesel beast that I’d have to turn on myself. I imagined pressing a big green button to manually start it. Later I’d press a big red button to shut the thing down and go back to the restored grid. That was my plan.
Instead I got a sophisticated, LP powered, pain in the ass. It’s supposed to detect an outage, turn on, power the house with ample (actually excess) juice, detect when the grid comes back on, and gracefully shut itself down. The “decide to turn itself on and off” mechanism sucks! There’s just too many ways it can go wrong. Also, it’s installed by folks who are well meaning but probably shouldn’t be messing with things more complex than a lawn sprinkler. Don’t tell me I shoulda’ stuck with the buttons. I know. You can’t always get what you want.
On the other hand, the generator is pretty awesome when it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. The unreliability will be no big deal until it is a big deal.
I’ve spent years pussyfooting around with the genset company. I finally evolved from polite to um… not polite… and that did help. They’ve actually tried to work it out. I don’t doubt their intention. It’s just that they can’t muster the level of support a sophisticated machine needs. Tale of life right there!
It sorta works better now than it sorta worked before. I don’t trust it. My past history with the Acme parachute company isn’t confidence inspiring.
It was a windstorm when the real world test came. The lights flickered. Once, twice, third time. Then they were out. I assume the flickering was the nearest substation trying to decide if it was a temporary issue or the real deal.
It was very windy out. Can’t be too upset if a tree nailed the line. These things happen.
I waited. My desktop computer is on a UPS, it kept running, as did my monitor and some other gadgets. My wifi antenna stayed live, that’s on a UPS too.
It came to my mind. “If the damn generator doesn’t fire up I’m scooping it up in the bucket of my tractor and shoving it through the front door of the assholes who sold it.”
I waited. After about six seconds the generator decided it was “go time”. It turned over and fired.
I waited. The pause from ignition to actually generating power was about 30 seconds. The lights came on.
Nice! I guess I won’t have to killdozer the office that sold the generator; how awesome is that? I’m very happy!
It ran about 45 minutes and then the grid came back. Smoothly, without the slightest flutter in voltage, it switched back to the grid. (I have no way to know when the grid comes back. I have to trust the generator to sense it.) After a short cool down cycle the generator shut itself down. If it was a dog I’d give it a treat!
It was textbook perfect! I couldn’t have asked for a better demonstration. I didn’t lift a finger the whole time. It worked great!
WIN!
More posts about ongoing “project daily driver” are here:
Guy at the desk: “We don’t see a lot of these antiques.”
Me: “Antique?!? Da fuq?”
I took my ATV to the shop for basic repair as part of “project daily driver”. I don’t think of it as an “antique”. I think of it as “completely paid off / fully depreciated”. It’s old and unreliable but still a handy workhorse. It’s a 325 CC Polaris. It’ll haul my fat ass without complaining so it’s plenty useable. It was the biggest baddest thing of its era but time has caught up (and blown past) it. It’s hopelessly slow compared to the amazingly powerful monstrosities of modern times. I don’t care, it’s still a great little machine.
I was still smarting from the front desk calling it an antique when I met the mechanic. If there are people with fewer fucks to give, I haven’t met them. This mechanic just plain gave not one shit about anything.
The guy at the front desk had written down all my specific issues to get it from “wouldn’t start all winter” to “daily driver to trail ride solo in the mountains right now”. It’s not much. It’s an ok machine, just wore out a bit.
Me: “Here’s the list from the front desk.”
Mechanic: Grunt. Takes the list and tosses it, without looking, on one of a dozen toolboxes and heaps of parts scattered all over the workshop.
Mechanic: Waving at the ATV on my trailer. “Drop it right there.”
Me: “Ok, the battery is shot so I’ll have to jump it with this battery pack.”
Mechanic: Grunt. He pops it into neutral, gives it a shove, and sends it rolling down the trailer ramp. It’s headed in a random direction. It rolls dangerously close to some other ATVs but stops with a few inches to spare.
Me: “Well that’s one way to do it.”
Mechanic: “Whatever.”
The mechanic never made eye contact. He spoke very few words and even his grunts were half hearted. He was as friendly as a kick in the head; as engaged as a zombie on Quaaludes.
The ATV wound up “parked” randomly in a dirt patch. It was now in a “herd” with a dozen other randomly positioned ATVs, all of which look newer and more expensive than mine. The dirt patch was circled by an asteroid belt of dead and dismembered ATVs. If your ATV is in the inner circle it may drive away, if it’s in the outer circle it’s “parts”. I shuddered.
I drove away wondering if I’d ever see it again.
ATVs are super cool but they amaze and frustrate me by getting a little too sophisticated and therefore ridiculously expensive. They’re too close in price to a used 4×4 “farm quality” jeep for me to have one. The last time I got close to buying an ATV I literally had nightmares over the thought of financing. I completely abandoned the idea.
My failed attempt to buy an ATV happened a few years ago. First, I test drove an Argo (nicknamed Battle Duck). The Argo was too much fun! I wound up chased out of some guy’s ditch. (Battle Duck’s story is here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.) I’d love an Argo but I’d probably be arrested in a week if I owned one. After the Argo I test drove everything in sight. (The story is The Mr. Bean ATV Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.) I wound up with a Yamaha TW200 dirtbike and have been very happy.
The image below is my vision of financing an ATV. It’s what I see any time I sign any payment plan. (It’s from Mr. Bean ATV part 6.)
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love a new ATV. I’m just too cheap. (On the other hand, I’ve done pretty well with a dirt bike that costs 1/2 to 1/3 the scratch to buy an ATV; so that’s something.)
I did wind up with a used ATV through inheritance. I’m incredibly grateful to have it. Given my attitude about finances it’s literally irreplaceable. I’ll have to keep it running until the end of time. It’s a bit old (apparently an antique!) and it’s too unreliable for trail riding. (I ride solo in the middle of nowhere.) But I use the hell out of it for hauling firewood and homestead chores (which is why ATVs were originally made!). I work it hard and it makes sense to keep it in useable form.
Last year a friend wanted to go trail riding. In a fit of brilliance I spiffed up the old ATV, parked him on the saddle, and led the way on my dirtbike. It was a strange arrangement but we had fun.
The ATV had a weak battery. I was a bit low on funds so I didn’t replace the battery. Luckily, my dirtbike never goes anywhere without my Noco Boost Sport GB20 battery pack. (I get a kickback from Amazon if you buy shit from that link.) (The “charger” fits perfectly in my bike’s “kit” and it can jump the ATV without breaking a sweat.) It’s not the same as replacing the battery but it was good enough for the moment.
Note, the ATV has a super cool rope pull start. How awesome is that? Unfortunately, it never runs well enough to start before my arm gives out. I need electric start to use it.
Then the poor thing was abandoned. All summer long I was trail riding on my dirt bike. The ATV just didn’t float my boat like the shiny new Yamaha. Then I leaned more on my tractor for firewood than the ATV. I didn’t always have a good tractor but now I do and the front bucket is just too handy to ignore. For various reasons the ATV wasn’t needed during hunting season.
By Christmas it was froze, dead, and lonely in the woodshed.
Last weekend I tried mightily to start it. The battery pack turned it over but no luck on starting. I tried to “resurrect” the battery with my fancy charger but that didn’t happen either.
I assumed the gas was bad. If it’s not stabilized, modern gas has a lifespan like mayonnaise. As a treat to myself I bought a siphon with a hand pump… no more mouthfuls of gas for me! The siphon sucked. I’d be better off with a few feet of tubing. What man hasn’t gotten an occasional bit of unleaded mouthwash?
I siphoned it out but I had no fresh gas on hand. As an experiment I used some from my 1 gallon dirt bike rotopax. Non-oxygenated with Sta-bil refilled maybe in Sept or Oct last year. She fired up well.
So that’s how I got it running enough to get it on a trailer and haul it to a place where she’s been insulted as an “antique” and kicked into ATV repair purgatory.
More “daily driver” tasks will ensue. Wish me luck.
More posts about ongoing “project daily driver” are here:
My cruiser is back on the road! When snow was 3′ deep and hauling firewood was a daily issue, I planned this moment. I’d made an appointment months in advance at a motorcycle shop.
Was this always necessary? I live in an empty location in an increasingly empty society. If I walk in the door looking for motorcycle service on the fly I’m doomed. I’ll hear something like “we’re really swamped during this unexpected temporary situation that’s been ongoing since about 2010. We have only few decent mechanics and they’re exhausted. We try to augment that with a handful of clueless Gen Z flunkies but they never show up and can’t operate a motorcycle anyway. We can fit you in for service six weeks from next October.”
Such is the decline in society. Look around. You’ll see it.
I adapted instead of bitching. I made a motorcycle appointment during a season of snowmobiles. Good for me. (If I owned a snowmobile I might make an appointment now for sometime around Christmas.)
My bike came back and I pried open my wallet to pay the price. Worth it! The old Honda looks more or less like it did the day I bought it. Except it’s slathered in 20+ years of dirt. (Some people wax bikes like showpieces. I don’t.) It also runs more or less like the day I bought it. All hail well built, simple, engines!
In celebration, I did a shakedown ride. I dug through my mishmash of protective gear. I’ll admit I’m a disorganized mess. It’s not that I haven’t been riding, it’s that the last two years have been 40 MPH and slower on a Yamaha in the forest and not 75 MPH and faster on a Honda on the slab. Two very different worlds. Also, I’ve bought the absolute bare minimum equipment over the last two decades and used it all until it’s frayed.
Everything I own was probably shot 10 years ago. I just keep riding anyway. Ignoring its increasingly ragged condition might have caught up with me.
I grabbed my trusty helmet, which has been carefully stored. I had to wipe off a ton of dust. I put on my leather chaps. (They may look silly but if I attack your kneecap with a belt sander I guaran-damn-tee you’d prefer them to denim alone!) I put on my jacket (which is looking a bit worn).
I do have new gloves. I’m not an animal!
Now I was suited up and ready for a daily driver shakedown cruise!
As I rode my helmet didn’t fit like it once did. It seemed to be rubbing my skull. Like someone took a perfectly good helmet and stashed a brick in it.
For dirt bike riding I bought a new helmet a few years ago. It’s perfect for 45 MPH but it would suck eggs at 75MPH. Hence the old helmet which is meant for highway speeds. It used to fit like a glove but now it was hard and uncomfortable.
I stopped for a cheeseburger and to assess the helmet situation. When I took off the helmet a bunch of foam came out. I found more foam bits in my hair. More fell down the back of my neck. The helmet got old and the soft padding inside is literally falling to pieces. It’s just plain wore out. I suspect the shell is still good but the soft padding inside is toast. Unfortunately the soft stuff is part of the protection. Without the soft stuff, the harder parts of the helmet were grinding into my skull.
No denying it. I going to have to throw out a good looking but decades old helmet. I wish I could retrofit the inside. I’m sure it’s a PITA and it’s definitely not recommended for safety reasons.
I hate trying on helmets. It took me forever to buy a simple dirt bike helmet and by comparison that’s practically a cheap ass bicycle helmet. Plus there’s not much of a selection locally and the real crux of it is that I don’t like shopping.
After a righteous cheeseburger I suited up; gingerly fitting the helmet on a slightly sore head. Then the chaps showed their age…
Flashback to buying the chaps; Sturgis 2000:
Me: “So you’ll hem to fit?”
Grizzled biker chick with scary big sewing machine: “Yep. Stand on this box.”
I stood on a box and she fitted the waistband and then the legs; marking them to cut & hem to length.
Me: “It’s a little loose around the waist.”
Biker Chick: “What kind of bike do you have?”
Me: “Honda Shadow.”
Biker Chick: “Metric Cruiser?”
Me: “Yeah, the belt is loose maybe you could…”
Biker Chick: “You’ll grow into it.”
Sigh… she was right! The waist is now more… um… form fitting. It’s not too tight, but it sure as hell ain’t loose. Fuckin’ covid weight gain!
There’s a little pocket on one leg of the chaps. The snap that holds that pocket closed ripped out years ago. I can’t put anything in it because it will immediately blow out onto the pavement. For at least 30,000 miles I’ve literally had a pocket flap buzzing in the wind on my right leg every mile I ride. Being cheap is like that.
Plus there’s a decades’ worth of dead bugs and road grime. But hey, ride with what you got eh? In fact, I’ve been wearing the chaps on the dirt bike too. My theory is that if I bounce off a tree it’s better to have them than not. They’re not ideal for off road situations but they sorta’ work when it’s not too hot. I’m still alive right?
Then the zipper pull ripped off. Nooooooo!
So there I am in a burger joint trying to make assless chaps (over denim jeans!) work when they’re totally shot. There is nothing graceful about any of this! I’ve got one leg zipped up and the belt (which I definitely grew into) tight, but the other leg flapping around like I’m some sort of demented incompetent one leg flasher.
I was wearing recently purchased motorcycle boots (the first motorcycle boots I’ve ever owned). They don’t fit great and they’re not broken in. Thus, my balance wasn’t great. I stumbled and flopped over into the booth while trying to extract my Leatherman from a jacket pocket. (Even as I did this, I realized the pocket’s zipper pull is also shot. Years ago I replaced it with a gadget I found in a camping store somewhere. I’d forgotten about that.)
Then, while I struggled face down ass up in a burger joint’s booth… with chaps half on and half off and a Leatherman dropped on the floor where my helmeted head couldn’t fit to reach… I ripped one. It’s not my fault, it just happened. Trip over new boots, crash into the booth, drop the Leatherman, and then broooonk. God has excellent comedic timing and I’m one of his props.
People were watching. I was fatally embarrassed.
Then the phone dings. Usually it’s off in the saddlebags but I hadn’t brought the saddlebag keys with me. (Another part of “project daily driver” is managing some missing keys. When my dog died we got a puppy. The puppy is another Great Pyrenees and eventually it got tall enough to reach my chest high key rack. I only figured out what was happening after the puppy ate several keys. The damn dog didn’t inform me what keys it ate so I’m still figuring out what keys are missing. My saddlebags that are perma-locked until I fix them.)
I ditched the helmet, forgot about the Leatherman, pretended the chaps were not a tangled mess, and tried to sit properly. If I couldn’t manage actual human traits I’d at least mimic them. As I fiddled with the phone the people watching me got bored. Phones create invisibility; a new thing I just learned.
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Enjoying your ride?”
Me: “I’M FALLING APART AT THE SEAMS!”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Stress will do that. Maybe take a longer ride?”
Me: “The shit I wear is falling apart.”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Are you wearing that jacket you bought from the guy in the classified ad way back years ago?”
Me: “Yeah, so?”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “You do realize that there’s no such thing as classified ads anymore. Nor does anyone read a newspaper. Wait, are you wearing those skanky chaps?”
Me: “They’re perfectly good.”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “You wore them into a mud pit last spring!”
Me: “That was not exactly an intended thing.”
It wasn’t this bad.
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “The mud was probably cow shit.”
Me: “Farming is why we’re not starving.”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Those chaps smell funky. Get your ragged ass home and buy new stuff.”
Me: “Shopping sucks.”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “I will help you shop.”
Me: “Thanks!”
Mrs. Curmudgeon: “I will drove to a store, kick you out, and lock the car door until you’re wearing a new jacket.”
So there you have it. I hate shopping and all my shit is worn out. Meanwhile, Mrs. Curmudgeon is trying to keep me alive and also keep people at burger joints from having to deal with bikers that smell like agriculture. The universe is at balance.
I have now re-defined “daily driver” to include protective gear.
I try to ignore my blog’s hit count. Investing too much in that little dopamine meter leads to madness. (We’ve all seen what social media does to people!) However, I’m only human and when I get a zillion hits, I can’t help but notice.
I decided to link to a few posts that lead here. Maybe you’ll follow them back and enjoy their point of origin. I think wordpress used to do this automatically with something called “trackback” but it’s gone now. Life is too short to fret about wordpress programming. Here goes:
A few weeks ago I wrote Attack Of The Gell-Man Effect and it sent the count meter spinning. The whole thing is Sarah Hoyt’s Fault! Her initial post got me to thinking. Thinking got me to writing. Then Sara linked to my my cogitations on Instapundit (where she posts often). Instapundit has rounding errors bigger than my blog so a simple little link there was an earthquake on my local hit counter. Thanks Sarah!
There were other links to that same post. I appreciate them too. Unfortunately, they’re already lost in the aether. Blogs, especially those that generate lots of attention, are transient. Lose the link and the knowledge is gone. If you linked to me and didn’t get mentioned here, I’m sorry about that.
More recently I wrote THAT Is How It’s Done! Folks seemed to like it. I followed up with THAT Is How It’s Done! Part 2 and inadvertently hit a vein of pure Zeitgeist. Raconteur Report noticed and sent some traffic my way. In the MIDDLE of the RIGHT did the same. Thanks to both of you! Borepatch mentioned and tied in a post by Larry Correia. (Being mentioned along with Monster Hunter(!) is pretty awesome for a guy like me. I talk to trees and then blog stories that go nowhere; I just assume nobody reads my shit (except for Squirrels of course), Larry’s the real deal. Thanks Borepatch!
Also a warm shout out to Filthie’s Thunderbox. He lives behind the maple syrup curtain where the leaders wear gay socks. I live where the president dresses normally but has mentally degraded to the intelligence of dish soap and can’t reliably finish sentences.
Filthie could probably join in any discussion I’ve had with an oak tree. We might both lose a debate to a particularly smart spruce.
He directly and indirectly referred (several times) to my recent heresy. I shelved my efficient, lightweight, fast JetBoil campstove and began fiddling with a slow, heavy, gasoline burning, Coleman campstove. Because of course I did!
Filthie is into polls lately. Everyone go over there and tell him the proper name for his truck which totes around his homemade RC airplane. He offers a poll with four likely names but everyone knows it has already been noticed by America’s NSA. The Squirrels tell me it has been tagged as “Darkweb Bringer Of Death From The Sky”. After all, everyone knows a tiny homebuilt RC plane is more or less exactly like a Predator Drone and they’ll post all about it to piss him off. I figure Filthis is one 3d printed “ghost wing”, a two stroke motor the size of a beer can, and a bag of corn chips shy of being blamed for all war crimes on earth.
My last post was about the Kentucky Derby. A surprise winner came from behind with all the heart and athleticism that makes life wonderful.
I watched the video(s) over and over again. An 80:1 horse, literally the longest odds on the track, kicked ass. It was improbable. The biggest upset in 109 years. Likely the biggest Kentucky Derby upset that’ll happen in my lifetime.
It. Was. Glorious!
It made me happy to see the true winner of a true competition. A true competition allows us to see who is best.
The unexpected winner of the Kentucky Derby is glorious because it is true.
Kentucky Derby organizers worked hard to make the competition fair, honest, and transparent.
Every detail is setup to limit even the slightest hint of cheating. The horses all faced the same circumstances. During the race nobody left the track and nobody entered the track. The horses left the gate all at once, on the day that had been determined years in advance, on the time that was scheduled, and they raced exactly as planned.
Nothing ruined the competition. There was no pile up of tripped horses. No idiot ran out into the arena. No external forces affected the track once the race began. The race happened on time, in public, as expected; as befits a serious endeavor.
There was constant vigilance. The race happened in full view of thousands of observers. Anyone could buy a ticket to watch. It was not a closed arena with a hidden track.
There were observers in every nook and cranny; watching from every angle. There are timers and cameras everywhere. Not just at the race’s conclusion but every foot of the track was under constant watch. Thousands of people watched, many with binoculars, others with cameras, plus there were overhead shots and live video broadcast on many venues.
Nor was the race won by a nose; Rich Strike won like a boss! I can verify one view of the finish by looking at a totally different camera angles of the same finish. They should, can, and do match up. I can get these images from dozens of sources.
It was transparent, monitored, broadcast, performed live, uninterrupted, and therefore scandal free. It wasn’t scandal free first and then monitored as an afterthought.
The Kentucky Derby was deliberately planned and executed in such a way to convince everyone that the results were trustworthy. Trust is earned, it’s not an accident.
I watched the race and I believed it. I’m not filled with disbelief and anger at the wacky 80:1 finish. As far as I can tell it was not a lie; it was simply a statistical oddity. I enjoyed viewing it. I trust what I saw. I have many legitimate reasons to believe it happened just as it was reported.
I’m not the only one. Thousands, possibly millions, of very careful gamblers watched it too. They put money on it. They had skin in the game. We all believe that the Kentucky Derby ran a clean race. Bookies burned on 8:1 sure bets and watching their money go to some loon who foolishly put cash on 80:1 longshots are taking their lumps and shrugging their shoulders. That’s how it goes.
The Kentucky Derby was done right.
This is why I could believe an improbable outcome; even enjoy it. Now brace yourself for the second part:
I watched every single minute of the Kentucky Derby. There was not one second excluded from live video. That’s not what happened during the 2020 election.
Here’s a photo of the absentee ballot counting facility in Detroit. This image was taken during ballot counting. There’s no reason on God’s green earth to block the view and a million reasons why it looks corrupt.
If the Kentucky Derby blocked the view of the race then someone announced an 80:1 longshot completely nuked the other 19 horses would you believe it?
Here’s the announcement of a pause in counting absentee ballots in Georgia. The famous water main break:
Here’s an image of a suitcase full of ballots being counted during the time when election observers were sent home and counting was said to be stopped. I can presume you’ve already seen videos and images of this event.
Dozens of events were sketchy during the actual campaign too. We call campaigns a “race” but they are sloppy and pathetic compared to the Kentucky Derby; our elections, in comparison, are hopelessly corrupt.
The image below is a fact that emerged during the election. You’re looking at the Presidential Candidate’s son with a crack pipe in his mouth:
The press called it misinformation. They said it wasn’t true. But it was true.
That’s the thing that makes the 2020 election a complete disaster. A year and a half later and we’re still getting confirmation that bullshit happened. What was called “misinformation” before the election is absolutely completely undeniably known to be true after the election.
51 “intelligence experts” claimed the Hunter Biden laptop was misinformation. They made this claim publicly in writing before the election. Now that the election is over, it’s is a known fact that every single one of them lied.
Let me repeat this known and undeniable fact because it’s important; I could watch the Kentucky Derby and see every damn hoofbeat frame by frame if I wish. But during an American election campaign 51 “intelligence experts” all collectively lied. One single event like that would ruin horseracing pari-mutuel betting for decades and yet we watched it happen in a presidential election. This was not one or two bad apples. It’s 51 of the motherfuckers. They all lied. I can’t get 51 people to agree on the best pizza topping but the press got 51 of them to sign their names on the record to an actual verifiable lie.
The FBI had the Hunter Biden laptop and somehow “lost” it. A law enforcement agency is supposed to manage chain of custody of evidence. “We lost it?” Really? That’s pure bullshit.
Of course, lies only last so long. The data is out there now and everyone has a copy. But the corruption accomplished what the corruption was meant to accomplish. They maintained the lie before the election (when it mattered) and only admitted the truth after the election when the truth is a moot point.
What does the press say about the situation that they created and pushed? Whoops… it was true after all.
What about the race itself?
Candidate Trump went everywhere, racking up huge audiences. There were boat parades and full stadiums. Here’s Trump in Duluth, Minnesota:
Here’s Trump campaigning in Jacksonville, Florida:
Here’s his campaign in Swanton, Ohio:
There are literally hundreds and hundreds of photos of Trump in front of huge happy crowds all during the campaign. Usually one or two packed arenas per week.
I personally saw a Trump rally. It was exactly like all the photos. Huge audience, happy people, His Orangeness sounded exactly the same at the rally as he does on video. (For both good and bad, the dude appears to love it. He could do a campaign speech to Penguins in an earthquake on top of a volcano and I think he’d rock that audience too.)
Just as I personally verified Trump’s… um… Trumpness, I could have gone to Kentucky and personally watched the Kentucky Derby.
I couldn’t do that with Candidate Biden. Biden “ran” most of his race from his basement. A schmuck like me wouldn’t get into his few and very closely controlled events. I’ve personally seen Trump and I’ve personally seen Trump crowds. I’ve never personally seen Biden and (in the last few months at least) I’m having a hard time fining people who are happy to have voted for him.
Here’s Biden with his basement in the background.
When Biden finally left the basement, he looked exactly like someone losing a race. Here’s Biden’s campaign in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He’s barely got enough people there to field a softball team. This is the candidate that is said to have gotten more votes than any other candidate in history:
Here’s Biden’s campaign in Pembroke Pines, Florida. You could feed that crowd with two large pizzas. I’ve personally had more people in my house. This is the candidate that is said to have gotten more votes than any other candidate in history:
I watched the votes get tallied on election day; you did too. I watched the election results come in and it looked pretty straightforward, just like the Kentucky Derby race. I went to bed at midnight having watched Trump’s solid win. I woke up the next day to a different result. The Kentucky Derby didn’t “restate” who won its horse race. America restated it in very special and select places where it was statistically um… necessary.
Within hours of the election’s weird and unprecidented overnight shutdown, the new results in the morning started showing up as images like this. You’ve seen them too. You can find dozens of such images. It’s a pattern found to the largest degree in states where it was important that Biden win. Here’s an image from Wisconsin:
Here’s an image from Michigan:
Those charts became a meme:
A weird chart might have a reasonable explanation but it surely doesn’t smell good. Mixed with every other sort of shenanigan during counting (covered windows, counts that paused for no reason, counts that shift in huge strange ways) it has the undeniable appearance of bullshit. Even if there’s a great reason for dozens of really weird results all in very key locations, it looks incredibly shady. Nobody sane would invest in a company that had financial records like that.
If Kentucky Derby races had finish lines like the election results, there would be no more Kentucky Derby. If you go to bed thinking Horse A won and wake up to find Horse B won, you’d call bullshit. You’d never place a bet again.
Speaking of bullshit, a few months after the sketchy election pissed everyone off, there was a Time magazine article about how the campaign was “fortified”. Obviously, it was published after the election:
After a while and some diligent research we started seeing videos of “vote mules”. These are people who are illegally casting more than one vote. Here’s a mule in a purple dress voting more than once… which is illegal. A person with different political views than mine might get all pissed off about it, but nobody can deny it at least looks like cheating. It smells like cheating. It sounds like cheating. This is a video of someone stuffing ballots in a ballot box. It’s a video of a felony:
Here’s another video of a bald guy voting more than once. It’s really hard to construe this as anything other than cheating and a felony. In this case there’s a license plate visible. The plate is evidence, of who is doing the ballot stuffing and it’s caught on tape; along with the actual crime taking place:
I could go on. I could link ten times as many images and endless bits of evidence and statistical anomalies. You’ve seen the same information as me. You’ve seen the images. You watched the vote tally change enormously in the middle of the night. You saw the vote counting stop in the middle of the night and then restart with vastly different results. You’ve seen the vote count charts. You’ve seen the mule videos. You’ve seen the Hunter Biden photos. You read the same Time magazine article.
Does any of that sound, look, or smell like the Kentucky Derby race?
I suppose someone could very carefully try to refute all the evidence but by bit. Suppose it’s all crazy right wing bullshit; even if that was all stipulated to be true, it still indicates an election that looks exactly like a cheat. The appearance of impropriety is exactly what the Kentucky Derby avoided. The Kentucky Derby was done right. The American election of 2020 was a complete and utter fuck up that we will remember for the rest of our lives.
Lets go even further. Does anyone believe the best horse won an honest race for president? Has Joe Biden led like a man who earned his position? Has he gotten good results? Do people seem to accept him as the de factor president of the United States? Does he have the popularity ratings that would go with the highest vote tally in history?
The Kentucky Derby convinced me that 80:1 longshot Rich Strike honestly won a fair race. The American press convinced me that Joe Biden did not win. I wouldn’t believe an 80:1 horse race if it had that much bad evidence any more than I believe Biden got more votes than any other candidate in history.
Everything done right at the Kentucky Derby was done wrong in the American Election of 2020. I wish we cared enough about clean politics as we did a horse race.
I’ll wrap this up with a photo of Joe Biden shaking hands with nobody:
